


One Lump or Two?

by OriginalCeenote



Series: And Then Comes Logan with a Baby Carriage [4]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ferals should always wear tiaras, Kid!Fic, Logan is a Great Dad, Marriage, Tea Party, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time for tea. </p>
<p>Companion story for I Might Not Have the Softest Touch. RoLo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Lump or Two?

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Imagine your OTP have a kid. Person A goes grocery shopping leaving B to watch their kid. When A comes home, they see B having a tea party with their child.
> 
> So, yeah, go read it.
> 
> http://ceeceereeves.tumblr.com/post/114517394551/otpprompts-imagine-your-otp-have-a-kid-person

If anyone ever wrote a parenting instruction manual, the definition of "sanity" would be "nap time." Ororo was certain of this, just as certain as she was that the creators of Yo Gabba Gabba were sniffing something illegal.

Her feet were killing her, despite the usually comfortable Skechers she wore for her trip to Costco, and she felt the beginnings of a migraine stirring to life as she hit the off-ramp in her Honda Odyssey. She cursed under her breath at a woman in a blue Camry who cut her off at the intersection, making her slam the brakes enough to make more tension pool in her neck.

Big box warehouse stores were evil. The pre-rush hour rush to beat the after work commuters was evil. Food sample servers hawking raviolis, corn dogs and cream puffs were evil, especially when she just started Paleo the week before.

Becky's birth changed the dynamic of her shopping trips in several ways, not least of which was having to use a pallet instead of a cart for her purchases when she carried them out to her car. Ororo dreaded when they would run out of toilet paper, diapers, and laundry detergent on the same day.

She pulled into the institute's garage and parked, popping the trunk as she did so. Just as the ignition and stereo cut off, she heard a distinctive "BAMF!" from behind the minivan. Ororo grinned into the rearview mirror as Kurt reached down and lifted up the trunk door.

"Someone brought home the whole store."

"Someone's feet are killing her," Ororo corrected him.

"Ach, liebchen, take a load off, and let me get this!" Ororo climbed out, hauling her enormous purse up onto her shoulder. The days of tiny purses were over once she had a family, needing a bag big enough to pack a change of diapers, packet of wet wipes, infant Tylenol, fruit snacks, and an arsenal of other baby hygiene items that always interrupted her search for her housekeys. The look she gave him was long-suffering and grateful.

"You don't have to, sweetie."

"Ridiculous. Go. Sit." BAMF! He disappeared in a brimstone cloud, teleporting her boxes of diapers with him, one under each arm. She strolled into the house, wondering how much havoc had been wrought while she was gone. She noticed Logan's motorcycle was parked at the far end of the garage, and she smiled appreciatively.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd get a little break.

Ororo checked the mail before she went into the house, riffling through the bills and junk circulars as she keyed her way inside. There was a low buzz of noise throughout the school, with classes over for the day and the students taking up residence in front of gaming consoles and SnapChat in the common areas.

"Logan just got home an hour ago," Anna informed her as she passed the kitchen. Anna was putting away the groceries with Kurt, who waved her on.

"Go ahead upstairs, liebchen."

"You didn't have to do that!" she scolded.

"Go and rescue your husband," Kurt grinned. "He has his hands full." Ororo cringed.

"Ooh... the girls woke up from their naps?"

"Boy, did they," Anna hooted. "Girl, those ladies love to wake up on the wrong side of the bed!"

"I was hoping they would have given you a longer stretch. Becky skipped her morning nap, no matter how much I begged and pleaded." A napless Becky meant a cranky Becky, and Mariko was an overstimulated demon child if she missed hers in the afternoon.

"We sat Mariko down in front her little shows, and Kurt gave her some apple juice when she was havin' her 'I-just-woke-up' meltdown. Daddy made the restless natives settle down. He's good at that."

"Surprisingly good," Kurt teased.

"Not that surprising, really. He has a way with wild animals."

"And wild women," Anna added smugly, shoulder-checking Ororo goodnaturedly and winking.

"Stop," Ororo muttered, but a smirk twisted her lips.

"Man in the room," Kurt sang awkwardly as he put away the milk.

"I'll go save him. I owe you both."

"Pay me in beer, liebchen."

 

Ororo toed her way out of her Skechers and padded barefoot up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a gaggle of students hogging the space along the railing as they barreled down. The day's rigors caught up to her, and she was slumping by the time she reached the suite she shared with Logan and the girls' adjoining nursery.

Her ears pricked up at the sound of giggles and the clinking of flatware. "What on earth...?" she muttered as she shoved the bedroom door ajar. "Oh. My. Goddess..." Ororo broke into a snickering fit at the sight that greeted her.

"Sure, just leave the door hanging wide open fer everyone t'see," her husband grumbled, waving her inside impatiently. Ororo was still snickering behind her hand, all the day's worries forgotten as she took in Logan's efforts at entertaining the girls.

He was bouncing Becky on his lap while perched - so uncomfortably) on the edge of a toddler-sized pink chair. Becky looked accusingly up at her mother, blue eyes still slightly bleary from sleep, munching on her pacifier as if to say "Enough with the laughing, lady, make with the MILK." Her hair was a messy, platinum bedhead of frizzy baby curls; Anna had the foresight to take down her pigtails before she went down for her nap.

Her eldest daughter was holding court and was in rare form.

Mariko had clearly dressed herself for the day, with little concession to color coordination or matching styles; Ororo could call it "eclectic," without really mincing words. _Adorable_ also sprang to mind. Mariko's coarse, bouncy curls peeked out from under the brim of a large, floppy, wide-brimmed, pink felt hat with a purple sash. She wore a turquoise blue feather boa around her neck, its long tail snaking down her back, shedding bits and tufts of feathers wherever she moved. The feathers mingled with the multiple strands of plastic beaded necklaces she wore, competing with the rubber and plastic bangles laddered up her skinny forearms. She was studiously sucking in the remains of a strawberry Ring Pop, and her lips were stained bright red. Mariko was swamped in her father's too-large workout tee shirt with the institute's logo; the navy blue shirt reached down to the knees of her red polka dotted leggings. She wore a pair of red Crocs on her tiny feet, a recent purchase from her auntie Anna, because, as the young Southern Belle so aptly put it, "We ladies on the move need style AND comfort, sugah."

Mariko had clearly been busy. "Hi, Mommy!" she chirped before launching herself at Ororo's legs. Some of her sparkly play makeup inadvertently bedazzled Ororo, smearing against the knees of her black jeans, but if that was the worst stain she picked up that day, what was the harm? Ororo was seasoned enough to know that motherhood went hand in hand with "washable."

"You're missing the tea party!" she accused, dragging her by the hand to join them at the table. Logan continued to bounce the baby on his knee, sighing.

"Ya sure are," he murmured.

"You look stunning," Ororo assured him, eyes crinkling as she took in his manicure - his wide, flat nailbeds were covered in sparkly purple polish, with a few dribbles leaving over the edges of his cuticles - the green pools of eyeshadow studiously, COPIOUSLY applied to his lids from lashes to shaggy brows, and the little pearl clip-on earrings attached to his lobes.

His own ensemble was a mimimalist version of his daughter's. A plastic tiara sat perched atop his thick black locks, and she let him get away with a pink boa draped around his neck, both tails hanging down in front.

The tutu was laying across the room on Mariko's twin-sized bed. "No tutu?" Ororo asked evilly, grinning.

"DIdn't fit," he shrugged.

"Doesn't Daddy look pretty, Mommy?"

"SO pretty, sweetie."

"Come have some tea," she demanded imperiously.

"I get tea?" Ororo batted her eyelashes.

"Whoa, boy, darlin', do you ever. Ya've been missin' out, big time." Logan handed Ororo one of the DIsney Princess cups with a matching saucer beneath it, and Ororo dutifully sat on one of the other empty, tiny chairs. She held the cup with her pinky extended and took a diligent pretend sip, slurping for effect.

"Oh, my, it's delightful. You make such wonderful tea," she assured her.

"The BEST tea," Logan told her. "Nobody makes tea like my little princess."

"We're princesses today?" Ororo checked for confirmation. Sometimes, they were all cowgirls, school teachers, chefs, or nuclear physicists (since Auntie Kitty was sometimes a guest at Mariko's tea parties, too).

"Uh-uh," Mariko declared with an exaggerated, solemn nod. "Daddy, you're out of tea. You need to drink some more."

"Do I get another cookie?" he asked expectantly. His face was oh-so-serious, and, to Ororo's amusement, he extended his cup pinky-out for Mariko to pour him a second shot from the big, fat pink teapot.

Becky, not to be ignored, promptly began squirming and fussing, reaching out to slap the saucer from Ororo's hand.

"Someone's getting lathered up," Logan warned under his breath. Becky clearly agreed with him. Her tiny nose scrunched up, her blue eyes squinched shut and she wailed in protest, letting the slobbery paci drop from her mouth. Logan lifted her up and tried to bounce her on her lap, but to his daughter's mind, "lunch" was sitting next to her, looking far to calm and relaxed and wasting time on tea.

"That's my cue," Ororo sighed, and she relieved her very grateful husband of the cranky baby. Ororo cradled Becky on her lap and nursed her while Mariko and Logan continued the festivities, until Becky settled back down for the second half of her nap.

"You're wishing that was Molson, aren't you?" Ororo nodded to Logan's teacup, still propped against his knee.

"That'll be enough of that, darlin'," he muttered. "Don't criticize yer hostess' perfectly good tea."

They carried on a bit longer, until Logan began to squirm a bit himself on the tiny chair, and Ororo decided to show him mercy. "Baby, I think Auntie Anna said something about a trip to Pinkberry?"

"YAY!"

"Let's get into our going-out clothes, baby."

"Are you going, Daddy?"

"I'm all full of tea, sweetheart. I might sit this one out."

"Daddyyyyyy, it was PRETEND tea!"

"Auntie's taking you out for real fro-yo," Ororo told her. "Go ahead and get ready!"

"Daddy, help me!"

"I'm comin', punkin'." If it wasn't for the adamantium lining his bones, Ororo would've sworn she heard her husband's bones groan and creak in relief when he rose from the tiny chair. He took Mariko's hands in his and "one-two-three-WHEE!" swung her to the wardrobe for a more suitable mall outfit.

Ororo watched him, rapt and content while she patted Becky's back as she slept. He moved in an easy lope, taking his sweet time as his oldest chatted his ear off and toyed with his feather boa, which Ororo noticed he didn't hurry to remove. The frippery and accessories were at odds with his brawny, masculine lines and his drawn, rugged features, but he looked as much at home in them as he would in a gi, body armor or kevlar. Fatherhood brought out that softer, sweeter side of him, a side Ororo was already familiar with, but who was a stranger to random observers. Who knew the stomping, cussing, smoking, gambling, dirty-fighting feral played a mean game of Chutes and Ladders or had a knack for braiding pigtails?

Ororo knew.

"That's a good look for you," she murmured a few minutes later, once Mariko went skipping out of their suite to meet her auntie downstairs. She tugged on the ends of his boa, riffling the feathers through her hands. His arm looped around her waist, hemming her in, and a sweet little shiver ran though her body at the close contact.

"Yer just jealous of my manicure."

"SO jealous." She took his tiara and donned it herself. "I might have to steal your stylist."

"She works cheap. Make sure to tip her good, darlin'."

"I have some lotion and wipes on the dresser, if you want to take this off." Ororo leaned down and kissed his brow, drawing a pleased little grunt from him.

"What? Green ain't my color?"

"You're more of an autumn."

"You can help me take it off, then, Miss Picky." She gave him a wicked grin and closed in on his firm, inviting mouth. Logan's grip on her tightened, and he devoured her low purr of pleasure as they kissed.

"That's all you want help taking off?" Ororo waggled her eyebrows and reached up to remove one of the cruel little clip-ons from his ear, massaging the reddened lobe.

"C'mere, you."

FIN


End file.
